Gloria pulled back. “Right now? I’m missing the party?”
“No, it won’t start until you get back.”
“But you’ll be there, won’t you? I want you to be the prince.”
Blake looked over at Mary and then back to Gloria. “Not this time, dear. But next time you need me, have nurse Hannah write me a letter, and I promise to write back.”
Gloria’s mouth formed into a pout. “But I walked all this way.”
Anton cleared his throat. “I’ll come, Gloria. I can be the prince.”
Gloria scrunched her little nose. “You don’t know how to play the game.”
Blake didn’t want to prolong his goodbye. He scooped Gloria up and handed her to Anton. “Your uncle is the closest to a prince I know. But if you ask nicely, I bet he will make an even better donkey and let you ride on his back.” Gloria looked up at Anton’s generally serious face and giggled.
Blake turned and nodded to Lord Templeton and then gave Mary a quick smile. “Good day, everyone.”
“Won’t you help me mount?” Mary asked, pointing to her horse.
Blake’s lips twitched. “It would be an honor.”
They moved behind the horse, which nearly blocked the others’ view of them. Then he put his hands on her waist.
“Thank you,” she said. She stepped up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. His insides melted a little at the innocent gesture.
He cleared his throat and lifted her up onto her saddle.
“Goodbye.”
Why did that one little word steal away his joy? Did she mean goodbye or just an extension of thank you, and I’ll see you around?
He watched them ride off, and he wiped his hands down his face. He knew how to capture a lady’s attention, but he realized he was absolutely clueless how to win a lady’s heart.
Chapter 13
Flowers and several copied poetry verses arrived throughout the next week. Mary smiled and shook her head. Blake certainly was trying. She’d never been on the receiving end of so much attention. She used her thumb to break the seal of yet another letter. Daylight filtered through the drawing room window across the page, illuminating a lovely sketch of two hands clasped together. One was clearly a man’s hand by the size of it, and he was clasping a more petite, feminine hand. She knew instantly that it was Blake holding her hand. She remembered how her heart had leapt when Blake had cradled her hand as he expressed his love for her. The gesture made time feel as if it had stopped.
Her whole body warmed at the memory. Could her touch have affected him too? She sighed happily. A knock on the front door sounded from outside the quiet drawing room, interrupting her reverie. Pearl stood in the threshold of the room only a few moments later.
“Mrs. Gunther is here to see you, milady.”
Mary folded the letter and tucked it in her sleeve. She stood as Mrs. Gunther hurried into the room and sat down with a heavy thump. “I must know the absolute truth. Are you or are you not scheming with my son for money?”
“Money?” Mary almost laughed, but she bit the insides of her cheek. Mrs. Gunther could be over-the-top on occasion. She stepped closer to her guest. “Mrs. Gunther, really. You know I have no need for money.”
“My son has great need for money, and I fear he is using you.”
“Why would he need money?”
Mrs. Gunther appraised her for a moment and then lifted her chin. “If you are not privy to our arrangement, and it appears like you are not, then I must be the one to tell you the truth. My son has abused you greatly.”
“Mrs. Gunther, I beg you to be frank. I’m completely baffled by what you could mean.”
“At the end of the house party at Rosewood, I told Blake he had to remain at home without any of his usual funds until he settled down and married.”
Mary’s mouth dropped. She blinked several times and then blurted, “You’re joking.”
“I do not regret being firm with him, only that he thought he should drag your name down with him. It does not sit well with me that he thinks to court you. Not for one minute.”
Mary collapsed into the closest chair and without the usual decorum. “You mean … he just … I can’t even fathom.”
Mrs. Gunther nodded. “Exactly. My son is useless to me. I wish I could send him to New South Wales with the criminals.”
“You were right to tell me, Mrs. Gunther. I must beg your leave. I feel a horrid headache coming on. Forgive me.” She stood and stumbled from the room. She made her way to her bedroom and crawled into her bed. When she opened her eyes it was to the silly face she’d drawn of Blake weeks before. Her eyes narrowed in on his bulbous nose. That idiot. That wretched, wretched man!
She was going to kill him.
Chapter 14
Blake survived dinner with Miss Cartwright without so much as smiling at her. Mary would have been very proud. His mother, on the other hand, had been livid. That is, until he’d explained he was courting Mary—or trying to. His mother’s shock had sent her into silence for a whole thirty seconds. Since then, she’d sent him curious looks but not pushed any idea of another girl his way.
Still, it had been a long, arduous week for Blake. Being cooped up was not his forte. He spent all morning crafting an original poem for Mary. He read through the final product and burned it. No use scaring her back to Lord Templeton. Instead, he copied another verse from the professionals and sent it over to the castle.
After visiting with his sisters and enduring their high-pitched stories, he went in search of his father. They had been spending more time together out of necessity, and Blake thought he would give beetle hunting one more try. He hoped his efforts with Mary would pay off soon, or Blake might not be sane long enough to know. He found his father outside, placing a beetle specimen in a clear glass.
“Father, there you are. Would you like me to help you search for beetles or carry your things to the study?”
His father blinked a few times in confusion. “You hate beetles.”
“But you love them, and since I want to spend time with you, I thought this might be the best way to do it.”
His father bent back to his work. “Fine, I’ll tell you. Your mother went in a huff to speak with Lady Crawford.”
“What?” This was the last thing Blake expected to hear. “Lady Crawford is still at her daughter’s house nursing her back to health.” He stood there a moment waiting for his father to comment, but he didn’t. “Well, why was Mother in a huff? And why did she need to speak with the countess?”
His father frowned. “I can’t remember. I wasn’t paying attention.” He peered into the transparent cup at his latest find. “Something about you wanting money at any cost.”
The blood drained from Blake’s face. “Was she going to tell Mary about the bargain?”
His father looked at him through the glass, magnifying his one open eye. “Do you see how the light makes the wings bluer? Fascinating.”
Blake clenched his hands at his side. “Yes, I can see that. Very fascinating. Uh, look. I am afraid we will have to do this another time. I can’t afford to lose Mary to Mother’s grasp.”
“Because of the money?” His father set aside the glass and was staring at him. Really staring at him.
“No, I love her. She’s the only girl in the world for me.”
His father smiled. “Then you’d better hurry.”
This counted as a heart-to-heart in Blake’s book. He squeezed his father’s shoulder affectionately. “Thank you.”
He took off at a run toward the stables, calculating how long it would take to have his horse saddled and to ride over. When had his mother left? More importantly, how much damage had she done?
Blake arrived as soon as he could to Banbury Castle. His mother’s carriage was pulling out, and he’d been too late. He rode directly up to the front of the house and dismounted, abandoning his prize horse without bothering to tie him up.
Pearl let Blake in a moment later, and Blake hurrie
d to the drawing room. Empty. He turned and took the stairs two at a time. He checked the alcove first—the one he wasn’t supposed to know about—since it was on the way to Mary’s room. Empty.
He rushed down the corridor to Mary’s closed door. He beat on it. “Mary! Mary, open up this instant.” He jiggled the door, but it was locked. “Please, love. Open the door.”
He heard soft footsteps, and the handle turned. What he saw, surprised him. He was prepared for tears and heartbreak, not this.
Mary’s eyes narrowed on him and seared through him like a sharp sword. There was fire behind her eyes and an odd glint Gunther recognized as only one thing. She wanted to murder him. She’d been angry before, but this was far worse. His death was her only objective. He took a step back and whined like a scared dog. “Mar-eeee,” he pleaded. “Come now. Let’s talk this out.”
“You. I hate you,” she growled. “You despicable, worthless piece of rotting flesh.” Her voice escalated. She stepped forward, and he kept the distance by walking backward.
He put his hands up. “Now, Mary. Listen to me.”
“What’s going on?” He heard Anton’s voice from behind him.
“Never have I met such a cruel, heartless person,” Mary said, ignoring her brother. “If I lived to be a hundred years old, I would never want to meet the likes of you again. You deserve to die!” She picked up a vase of flowers and tried to throw it at him.
Blake dodged and the vase shattered. “Mary!” he yelled. “Get a hold of yourself. If you’ll just listen for one minute … ”
She growled again and then flew at him, hitting and kicking.
He wrestled her arms, trying to pin her down. Anton came from behind and pulled Mary away by her midsection.
“Stop it, Mary!” Anton yelled. Anton never yelled.
Mary did stop then. She sank against Anton and covered her face as sobs escaped. Then she turned and hugged Anton as she cried.
Anton’s face revealed the shock Blake felt. Then Anton’s eyes pinned him with an accusing glare. “What’s going on, Gunther?”
“It’s not what you think.” Blake stepped closer, but Anton put out his hand. “Come now, Anton. At least hear me out.”
“Fine, but I will not force Mary to listen. I want you to leave, Blake. I will ride out when Mary is feeling better.”
Blake shook his head. “I’m not leaving. I care about Mary just as much as you, maybe more.”
“The difference is, she doesn’t care for you. Look at what happened here.”
The flowers and glass on the floor, the sound of her cries. Blake felt like he had been gut-punched. He nearly doubled over with pain. Was this what it felt like to love someone so much it hurt? He thought love was supposed to be sunshine and roses.
“Mary, please. This isn’t about the money. My mother thinks I’m a rake, but I promise it isn’t true. I’ll prove it to you. I will. I’ll keep begging for your forgiveness from now until eternity.”
The cries did not lessen. Anton glowered, and Blake finally pulled himself away.
Chapter 15
A maid brought three letters to Mary’s room the next day. The first in the small stack was from her mother. Her tears had barely dried after a long night of heartache. She couldn’t bear to read it if it meant bad news. The children’s sweet faces came to her mind, spurring her from her bed. She ran to find Anton.
She flew into his office without knocking. She’d never knocked when it had belonged to her father, either. The letter practically flew out of her grasp as she shoved it toward him.
“It’s from Mama. I can’t open it.”
Anton refrained from commenting about her swollen eyes and took the letter. He picked up his penknife and sliced away the wax seal.
He scanned the letter, and his composure relaxed. “Jillian is recovering. Mother should be home by the end of the week.”
Mary sank into the seat opposite her brother’s desk and squeezed her eyes shut. “I couldn’t have survived losing Jillian.”
“I know,” Anton said. “And God knows. Praise be to Him for getting Jillian through this.”
“Amen,” Mary said, wiping a stray tear from her eye. She wasn’t the only one missing Father right now and counting her blessings she would not have to say goodbye to her sister. She reached forward and took the letter back. “It says to not forget about the Johnson’s ball, as she will likely not be home in time to join us. I admit, I had forgotten.”
“Yes, the ball is an oversight with all the angst this family is experiencing. Let me tell the children the good news; I’m afraid your tears will just upset them.” Anton stood and moved toward the door.
“Hug them close. I will come up to see them after I take a nap.”
She went back to her room and saw the other two letters on the bed. Would one be from Blake with an apology or explanation? She picked up the second and opened it.
It was from Terrance!
The first two paragraphs were surely exaggerated tales of the horrid conditions his estate was in. If they were true, then he and Miss Bliss were in for a great deal of work. It was the third paragraph that caused her to put her hand to her mouth.
Before I left, Anton and I decided to look into the rumors surrounding Gunther. Not out of disloyalty to our friend, and near-brother, but because we hoped uncovering the truth would help you. I did not expect to receive word back from my sources so quickly. As soon as I arrived, a letter met me with a most revealing story. It seems Gunther is beloved by more than just you. Two others, at least, are quite enamored by him. So much so, in fact, that they have tried to outdo each other. They both claimed him as the father to their unborn child in hopes he would be forced to marry one of them. My letter states they have rescinded this claim after a doctor’s examination proved both were indeed without child.
I can hardly keep from laughing as I write this. Gunther has never lacked for female attention, but I daresay, I was wrong to jump to conclusions. I do hope he will find this equally amusing when I write to him my apology.
There is more. My farewell dinner enlightened me as to Gunther’s feelings for you. I very much believe him to be in earnest in his desire to court you, but I’m worried he will do something out of jealousy. He does not care for Lord Templeton. I will support you in whatever path you choose. Take care of Anton. None of these changes will be easy for him.
Love, Terrance.
Mary stewed for a moment. This cleared up a few concerns but not all. She pulled out the third letter … the one with Gunther’s seal on the back. She took a steadying breath and then broke the seal with her fingernail.
It wasn’t from Blake, but from Mrs. Gunther.
I am writing concerning our little chat the other day. Perhaps I was a bit hasty in my conclusions. I do hope you will forgive me. A mother is apt to think the best and the worst of her child. It is in our nature and cannot be helped.
Mary rolled her eyes. What was she supposed to do now? Believe Blake was a saint? She’d had enough confusing reports to make her feel regretful and frustrated. And where was a letter from Blake? Had he given up on her?
Chapter 16
Mary loved a country ball, but tonight she was not in the mood. She sat at her mahogany dressing table in no hurry to leave.
Anton, dressed in his green waistcoat and a fine black evening jacket, leaned against the doorframe of her room. “Lord Templeton will be there.”
“I have been ignoring him, so I doubt he will still pay me any heed.”
“Come, Mary. I am not thrilled about dancing, but I have to go. Please, don’t make me go alone.”
Mary sighed and pointed at him with her comb. “You know Blake will be there, and I’m not ready to face him.”
“What if he really is innocent in all this?”
“Are you saying he actually loves me?”
“I’ve never known Gunther to send poetry to anyone. In fact, I’ve never seen him even read poetry. Come to think on it, can Gunther even read?”
“You’ve made your point. Some of his efforts do seem sincere, but what about the bargain he made with his mother?”
“So he is supposed to marry someone. Aren’t we all? Why not have him choose the person he actually cares for?”
Mary lowered the comb. “Don’t make this into something logical. It makes sense when you say it that way, and then my feelings aren’t justified. I hardly think that’s fair.”
Anton looked at her strangely. “Where is Terrance when you need him? He was always better with your problems than me.”
Mary dropped her head back against her chair and groaned. “If I could guarantee he loved me and guarantee he would be faithful, I could forgive the bargain debacle.”
Anton folded his arms across his chest. “It’s become quite clear he loves you. Whether this state lasts or not, I cannot make any promises on his behalf. We all have to decide to trust someone at some point. I trust Blake, but I am not sure I want him to marry my sister. He’s already family, so why does he need to marry you, too?”
“Because he and I deserve a chance at something more … a family of our own.”
Anton’s lips quirked upward. “There you have it then. Do you think you have enough faith in him?”
Mary blew out her breath. “I suppose I could observe his behavior at the ball. But don’t say anything to him. I should like to see him suffer a little longer.”
“Remind me to never fall in love if this is the treatment I expect to receive from my intended.”
Mary stuck out her tongue.
Anton chuckled and took a step backward. “You haven’t much time so call your maid up, or whatever it is you do to get ready.”
She almost laughed at his awkwardness. She couldn’t wait to see Anton fall in love. And not with some dream, but with someone who actually returned his affections. Anton deserved to be loved. Her mind drifted to Blake. He deserved to be loved too.
Lady Mary Contrary: Regency Ever After book 2 Page 7